Could Be Lethal
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: What happens when everything is out in the open?
1. Chapter 1

Why this woman puts up with me is a mystery. I am a colossal screw up and really have no idea how to be in a relationship.

I mean, we've been out of our relationship closet for less than a week and I've already nearly destroyed us; all it took was teasing from our friends about me and Monica getting married and having kids and I almost went over the deep end.

This is why keeping our relationship a secret was such a good idea. I can't handle our friends. We knew that they'd harass us to no end.

All it took was for Monica to innocently mention "forever" and I was about an inch away from physically running away. Hell, it's not even the first time she's said "forever" to me in that context. On occasion, even I've alluded to our future without it being a major incident, but after a few people bombard me with marriage talk, and I almost ruin the best relationship I've ever had. And for what? Because of the thought of marriage? It's not like I haven't thought about marriage. In fact, when I've thought about it, it's almost exclusively included Monica. She's my future; but while I know, deep down, that I want to spend forever with her; I'm just not ready to talk about it.

Of course, if I'd taken two steps back for just a minute, I would have realized that none of it was from her—in fact, even she was saying that she wasn't there yet.

"I'm such an idiot," I suddenly say.

Monica's head pokes up from the crook of my arm. "I know."

"Why on earth do you love me?"

"I really don't know."

That answer startles the hell out of me. "Ow."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I just mean that I have no idea why this happened to us now. All I can say for sure is that I love you. You make me happier than I've ever been in my entire life. Every time I see you, my heart flutters. All I want is to be with you. I can't explain it; I don't want to. The 'why' doesn't matter to me. I just love you."

"But I'm so neurotic—"

"No 'buts'," she interrupts. "I love you unconditionally, warts and all. You are everything to me. I'm sorry if that scares you, but you better get used to it."

I sit up and turn to face her, taking her hands in my own. "You're everything to me, too! You're my whole world. You're all I think about. And it _is_ a little scary…but it's a good scary."

She leans in and kisses me. "I love you."

I grin. Now that we've started saying it, it seems that we can't figure out how to stop. "I love you, too."

"Can you promise me one thing, though?"

"What's that?"

"The next time something like this happens—and let's face it, it's going to happen again—you talk to me first? Tell me that it's bothering you instead of being passive-aggressive about it. Because I can't handle going through something like this again, you know? I'm just excited that we're not hiding anymore. I kind of want to ride that wave for a while."

I reach out and stroke her cheek. "I'll promise to try. Is that okay?"

She nods and I pull her close. "It'll do for now."

We recline against her headboard once more, silence falling over the room. Monica softly strokes my chest, and I don't know that I've ever felt this content. This woman makes me beyond happy. The thought that I could have lost her over something as stupid as a misunderstanding nearly breaks my heart. I wasn't joking when I told her she's my world.

Her voice breaks the quiet in the room once more. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course."

"Why exactly are you such a commitment-phobe? What is it about the thought of marriage that sends you into a panic?"

"Marriage is scary!" I exclaim. She remains silent and I take that to mean this is not an acceptable answer. "Look; my parents' marriage went up in flames, and even when they were married, they were usually pretty miserable. The whole institution is just…" I let the thought drift off, my reasoning sounding pretty weak to my own ears.

"So, you're afraid of commitment based on one failed marriage?"

"I get it—it sounds lame. But forever is a long time. A really long. How can anyone be sure they want to spend eternity with a person?"

Monica's quiet for a moment, thinking it over. "That's fair, I suppose. But think about it this way, too; forever is a long time to spend alone. And I'm not saying I want marriage right now, but honestly, the thought of spending forever _without_ you is a lot scarier than spending it with you."

Huh. I've never thought of it that way.

"What I feel for you is different, Chandler. It's deeper and more intense and more real than all of my other relationships combined. We're _different_. Everything about what we have feels right. I know it's only been eight months, but that's still the longest relationship I've ever had. Maybe that's sad, but I know that it wouldn't have worked with anyone else. I know you can't tell me you don't feel at least _some_ of that."

"I feel all of that, Monica. All of that and more. But it's still scary."

"I'm scared, too."

I pull back and look at her in shock. "You are?"

"Of course I am. I'm terrified because of all those things I just said. Everything with you is different, and it's terrifying. But in a good way; in a way that makes me excited to find out what's going to happen next because I know you'll be there beside me."

I smile as I think about it. "Yeah, I guess things seem less scary with you next to me."

"See?" she exclaims and leans up to kiss me. "Can I ask you another question? If it makes you uncomfortable, that's okay."

"Shoot."

"Are you committed to me?"

"Of course I am," I answer, not even hesitating to think. "Completely, one hundred percent."

"Doesn't seem so bad when you think about it in terms of the two of us instead of a general 'thing,' does it?"

"Fine, smarty-pants. You win."

She smiles smugly and cuddles into my side. "Damn right I do."

Without warning, she starts to chuckle. Her hand flies to her mouth to stifle it, but it doesn't do any good.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Can you imagine what this whole thing would have been like it had happened a few months ago? I mean, if we had decided to go public much earlier?"

I groan and shake my head. "I don't want to. I would have completely ruined this whole relationship."

"I guess there's a small possibility that, without the confession of love, everyone wouldn't have been on us about it." I raise my eyebrows and give her a disbelieving look. "I said the possibility was small; I didn't say it was likely."

"I probably would have literally run away. Chandler five or six months ago would not have been anywhere near equipped to handle the last few days."

"But instead of running away, you tried to propose. Misguided as it was, that was still a huge gesture for anyone."

I smile at her teasingly. "But what do you think that means?"

"I think it means we're heading in a really good direction."

I gently stroke her hair back from her face for a moment before leaning in to kiss her. Despite all of the confusion and general crappiness of the last couple of days, it's an enormous relief to be able to kiss Monica whenever I feel like it, to hold her hand, to play with her hair, whatever it is that strikes my fancy at the moment. I don't think I'd trade this for all the teasing in the world.

"So," I say between kisses. "How about a change of subject?"

"What've you got in mind?"

"Well, since everyone is now aware of the fact that we're having sex, what do you say you turn it up a notch?"

I can tell by the look in her eyes that Monica knows where I'm going with this. "Keep talking."

"We've been fairly considerate of our friends and how they're adapting to us being an 'us' for the last several days. I'd have to say that we've kept things pretty darn mellow, actually. So what I suggest is we do the exact opposite. We know that if nothing else, Rachel is here. It's not too late; I'd be willing to bet that Phoebe and Joey are here, too. Let's be so loud and obnoxious that none of them will be able to look us in the eye tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me! But what if they all leave?"

"Does it matter? They'll still be uncomfortable, plus we'll have a little bit of privacy _and_ get to have amazing sex. What could be better?"

She grins evilly, then pounces, attacking my lips with her own, both of us fumbling with our clothes. Ordinarily, neither of us would be too keen on the idea of our friends (and possibly her brother) hearing us going at it, but I think we deserve a little bit of payback for all the jokes and jabs the last couple of days.

Revenge truly is sweet.


	2. Chapter 2

*A/N...I've been told that it's hard to tell the perspective in this fic, and having reread it with the knowledge that you guys do not live in my brain, I agree.

This story is from Rachel's perspective.

* * *

I shake my head and roll my eyes at Joey. The dude really is kind of a pervert. A harmless perv, but still. Pervy. He's managed to take a harmless conversation about movies and turn it into the recent development of women going braless onscreen and about how he enjoys seeing how cold they must be all the time.

"You know," Phoebe says, "they actually sell little fake rubber nipples for women to put in their bras so they can pop out all the time."

"What?!" Joey looks completely crushed. "Why would they do that? That's just mean!"

I start to speak when I hear what sounds like a door knocking and pause. It's hard to make out with the conversation going on around me, but it sounds like it's coming from down the hall. I shrug and tune back into the conversation. Now Joey and Phoebe are talking about whose nipples are real and whose are fake, and I look over at Ross in disbelief.

"These are the topics of conversation we've been reduced to?" I ask him.

He chuckles a little at me. "I guess it's official—we've all run out of things to say." He goes silent for a moment, looking as if he's hearing something, too. "Hey, do you hear that? It sounds like—" A look of horror washes over his face and he stands abruptly. "I've got to go."

We all look at each other in shock for a moment, then back at Ross. "What's wrong?" I ask.

On top of horrified, he now looks nauseated. Without a word, he turns and bolts out the door.

"What is with that guy?" Joey asks, throwing his hands in the air.

"Maybe he's uncomfortable talking about nipples," Phoebe suggests. "Rachel?"

"Not that I remember. That topic certainly never made him look like he was going to throw up." I hear the knocking again, though this time it seems closer, and it sounds like people are trying to talk over it.

Phoebe goes to speak again, but I immediately shush her. She shoots me a look that could kill, but I ignore her. "You guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Joey asks.

"That…_thumping_ noise."

"Maybe it's a ghost!" Phoebe exclaims, her body radiating excitement. "Maybe your apartment is haunted!"

Joey looks terrified at the thought for a few moments before he starts to smile and nod. "Nah, that's just people doing it."

We all immediately go silent, trying to pinpoint the sound, very curious as to which neighbor is having such a good time. The volume starts to increase—moans are becoming louder, a headboard is hitting the wall harder—and I feel something familiar tickle at the back of my brain. Before I can place it, Joey starts to chuckle.

"What?" Phoebe asks.

"I know that sound. That's Chandler and Monica!"

"Ewww!" I exclaim as Phoebe jumps up and runs to Monica's door. "Phoebe!"

For a split second, she looks startled, as if she forgot we were there, then backs away from the door. "Oh, right. Ewww! How'd I get over here?"

I put my hands over my ears. "Ewww ewww ewww! Maybe it'll be over soon!"

Joey just laughs even harder. "No it won't."

Despite myself, I pause, curious. "What do you mean?"

"I guess Monica is Chandler's inspiration or something because those two can go at it forever."

Just then, Monica yells out, "Oh, God, YES!" which is immediately followed by Chandler, "Oh, yeah, you like that? Yeah?" and Monica's ever-increasing chorus of, "YES YES YES!"

"She sounds very agreeable," Phoebe says casually.

I bolt out of my position on the couch. "I have to get out of here!" Joey stands up, too, and races to the door, me right on his heels. I reach for the doorknob only to realize that Joey is actually blocking my exit. "Let me out! I don't want to hear this!"

"No way. I've had to deal with this for months. Every night. EVERY NIGHT. And they're never quiet about it. It's about time someone else got to experience it."

"Ewww ewww ewww ewww ewww! Joey, don't make me hear this! I have to look at her in the morning!"

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

Phoebe advances on Joey, her face determined. "Joey Tribbiani, you let us out of here."

He crosses his arms over his chest and stares Phoebe down, not budging. "No."

"Don't make me hurt you!"

Meanwhile, the sounds coming from Monica's room have changed from words to just loud, animalistic noises. "Seriously, are they making a porno in there?" I ask. "Because this doesn't happen in real life."

"Does now," he answers. "Pretty gross, huh?"

"I mean, do they not realize that we're out here?"

"Well, in all fairness, Rache," Phoebe says. "They're allowed to have sex whenever they want to. Or as loud as they want to. They don't have to ask if we're okay with it." A weird look comes over her face and she shoves Joey will all her might. "I still have to get out of here. Help me, Rachel!"

Together, we manage to shove Joey out of the way and we all dash into the hallway. Joey runs into his apartment and slams the door behind him. Phoebe grabs the handle and pushes at the door. "He locked us out!"

I bang on the door, frantic. I can still hear Chandler and Monica out in the hallway. "Joey, let us in! Please! I don't want to hear this!"

"Deal with it!" he yells through the door. A moment later, I hear his bedroom door slam.

"Well, it was great seeing you, Rache. Gotta go!" Phoebe exclaims.

I grab at her arm as she turns to leave. "Wait! What are you doing?"

"Going home. You know, stuff to do, ice picks to jam into my ear drums, the usual. Bye!" In an instant, she's gone, and I'm left in the hall alone, forced to listen to the ruckus on my own.

I have a brief flash of inspiration—I can just go down to the coffee house! But I immediately realize that would mean I would first have to go back into the apartment to get my jacket and money, and there is no WAY I'm going back in there now. In fact, without a jacket, I'm completely stuck where I am. I slump down the wall, covering my ears once more, and start to hum. It helps some, but I know it's there.

A while later, I open my eyes—as if somehow, scrunching them shut would keep out the noise—and cautiously lower my hands. They have to be done by now, right?

Oh, so wrong. They are most definitely not done. Unless they've started again. I'm not sure which is more horrifying. I stand up and start banging on Joey's door again. "Joey! Please let me in! Please! I'm sorry you had to deal with this on your own! Please please please please!"

Somewhere behind me, Monica starts screaming, "Oh, God, Chandler YES!" and I bang on the door more furiously. How are our neighbors not disturbed this? Shouldn't they…I don't know, call the cops or something?

Good thinking, Rachel. What exactly are cops going to do? Break down the door because two consenting adults are having a good time?

"JOEY! LET ME IN THERE RIGHT NOW!"

Monica starts to scream out, "Seven! Seven! Seven seven seven seven seven SEVEN SEVEN SEVEN!" at the same time Chandler starts to yell, "Oh, yeah, Monica!" and Joey's door finally opens a crack. With strength I didn't know I had, I push the door open enough for me to slide in and run over to the TV, turning it up as loudly as I need to drown out the noise.

Joey shrugs and goes over to his barcalounger. "Not gonna help, but whatever."

Ignoring him, I grab a blanket off the couch and curl into the other recliner, wrapping myself up and covering my ears once more.

It's then that it occurs to me; I have to live with this.

I may never sleep again.


End file.
